


I Absolutely Hate Kelley O'Hara

by awesumgurl3



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesumgurl3/pseuds/awesumgurl3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Hope hates Kelley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Absolutely Hate Kelley O'Hara

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your opinions! Thx for reading. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE USWNT.

I absolutely hate Kelley O’Hara.

I hate her beautiful hazel eyes. I hate how when I look in to them no matter how tough I try to be, I melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. I hate that one look from her can change my mood. That if she’s angry at me for whatever reason, I die inside. How whenever she looks at me after we win a match her eyes gaze into mine and she’s so proud and happy. I hate how her eyes tell stories and how she’s feeling. It makes my stomach churn.

She’s so goddamn funny. We could be down in a match 3-1 and she’ll crack a joke taking everyone’s mind off of us losing; the moral raises when she does that. She might just be sitting on the bus with the team and yell, “Marshmallows!” and everyone will burst out laughing even me. One joke from her can make me smile and forget about all my problems for a second it’s disgusting.

I hate her hugs. My God, they have to be the worst thing on Earth. She wraps her arms around and holds me close. I hold her as tightly as possible not wanting to let go. Not wanting to let her slip away. I smell her pineapple shampoo, and our bodies mold into one. She might whisper silly, adorable things in my ear and I try my best not to turn into a love struck high school girl. Sometimes she’ll grip me even tighter and say that I’m beautiful and that she’ll always be there for me. My heart can’t control itself. It makes me want to die in a hole.

I can’t stand my jealousy. Seeing her even look at someone else makes me the most angry, jealous, maniac on earth. She might be tickling Tobin or maybe playfully kissing Julie’s cheek, and I can’t help but to wish it were me. I often wonder what it’d be like if she kissed me one day. How she would taste and how amazing it would be. Our bodies would dance together, and we’d never let each other go. I hate that I can’t not care. I hate that I want her to be mine.

Her kindness is awful. She’s the most genuine person on Earth. She loves all races, all ages, she loves everyone. She’s never mean to anyone. No matter how rude or terrible you are to her, she never has a rude response. I’m not saying she doesn’t stand up for herself; she surely will and for someone else, as well. I’m just saying that she has never thought rudeness and cruelty is the way to do things. Push her, she’ll push back, but not to hurt you; just to let you know you aren’t going to fuck with her. I hate that I find that the sweetest, yet sexiest thing.

Her smile kills me. It’s so adorable and innocent pulling me in. I can’t see her smile without wanting to shower her amazing, precious face with kisses. She might come up to me and smile and say, “Morning Hope! Are you ready for the match?” The fact that she talks to me as if it’s the coolest thing in the world, makes my heart melt. I’m nothing special at all; she thinks otherwise.

Her talent is heartbreaking. Sometimes I watch her play, and my mouth (in my mind) drops open. She does so many incredible things. I watch her highlights from college on YouTube (yes I do that I can’t stop), and it’s no doubt that she was meant to play this game and be on the US Women’s National Team. The funny thing is, she actually wants advice from me. Instead of asking Meghan or Julie who actually play her position, she’ll come up to me right in front of them and ask me, “What’d you think of that play? What could I have done differently?” She asks me this in front of Jill, everyone. She values my opinion. That makes me feel important and superior in the worse way.

I see what we could be, and it makes me the saddest person alive. She might just come up behind me and wrap her arms around me, and whisper that I’m amazing. My heart shatters yet beats like a drum in a marching band at the same time; I see what we could be. I see that one day we could get married and have a beautiful family together. I see myself dressed in white at our tropical wedding in Australia committing to each other forever. I see myself cooking pancakes with her on Sunday morning with our two kids sitting in highchairs at the kitchen table waiting anxiously for their first meal of the day. I see us growing old together crying while holding our newborn grandchild. None of that will ever be a reality. No matter how much I pray or wish. No matter how many accolades I win I’ll never have her heart; the biggest accomplishment of all and the thing I’d be most proud of. That this amazing would woman loves me and only me. I would trade that for my Golden Glove, my National team jersey, for everything I have worked for in my life in a heartbeat.

I hate the truth. I hate that it stares me in the face constantly taunting me. I’ll never have Kelley O’Hara. She’ll never be my girlfriend or my wife. I have Jerramy. I care about him. I do, but Kelley is my everything, my world. My soulmate. Jerramy I married because I just wanted to rush and settle down. I didn’t want to keep waiting. I gave up on Kelley. Imagine how different life would be if I hadn’t married Jerramy. Me and Kelley might have a small chance. I constantly am reminded of that; when he kisses him I want it to be her lips I’m tasting, I want her to be the one sleeping next to me at night. I’ll never forgive myself for giving up on her. Ever.

I hate that I’m irrevocably, undeniably in love with Kelley O’Hara. I hate that I can’t change how I feel or that I can’t control it. I hate how unfair I’m being to Jerramy by pretending to love him when I don’t. I hate that me and Kelley will never have a fair chance.

I cringe at Kelley in the hospital bed holding her newborn baby, Samantha. Her wife, Jocelyn is standing beside the bed in awe cooing. I try to hide my envy, my sadness, my pain. She smiles at me. “She’s adorable Hope.” I nod silently.

That could’ve been us.

I absolutely hate Kelley O’Hara.


End file.
